


Light My Fire

by fallenrose24



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles, Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenrose24/pseuds/fallenrose24
Summary: Brighid barges into Mὸrag's room and world goes down in flames... or the story of Mὸrag's fire-inducing abs.





	Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for this one, I don't think.
> 
> This was supposed to be a total crack!fic, but I'm not sure I can actually do that... stupid plot and meaningful conversations get in the way. I'm also not the person to go to for explicit content so.... crack!fic became crack!fic-lite. Anyway, this ridiculousness is just a fun, flirty piece about Brighid and Mὸrag's abs... because we all know she has a ridiculously toned six pack under that uniform.

Their journey back home from Torigoth had been uneventful. Actually, it had been down right silent. Mὸrag had spent the entire voyage staring contemplatively out a window, only bothering to acknowledge anyone when she was told a meal had been prepared. The behavior unnerved the few soldiers who accompanied them, but Brighid knew her Driver better than that. The Aegis… and that boy… they had struck a chord in Mὸrag. No doubt the Ardainian was analyzing their encounter a million times over, searching for the moment when she had revealed her weakness to them. And attempting to anticipate where they would travel next on whatever journey those children seemed to be on. Brighid simply kept a silent vigil near her, giving her the space to brood, but making it clear she wasn’t alone.

Unfortunately, their audience with Emperor Niall did nothing to sway her Driver’s mood when they finally arrived at Mor Ardain. Mὸrag retreated from the throne room with lines of stress and frustration pinching at her eyes. The political climate of Alrest was shifting dangerously. It was difficult enough trying to anticipate Torna’s next move without having to worry about the trigger-happy Senate starting a war. And now with the Aegis having reappeared, it’s as if accelerant had been dumped on an already blazing fire.

Mὸrag paused when they reached the elevator, her gloved hand hovering over the call button. “Brighid… why don’t you take the afternoon for yourself?”

That was unexpected.

“Lady Mὸrag?”

The Inquisitor turned to glance at her Blade over her shoulder, keeping most of her face obscured. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been home. I’m sure there is new inventory at the shops that you are eager to browse.”

The dismissal, though kindly phrased, was clear. Brighid bowed her head and thanked her Driver before stepping into the elevator alone. Her hidden gaze locked with the torment in those amber eyes until she physically lost sight of them. Leaving Mὸrag in such a state was not something she truly wished to do, but she knew better than the argue with the woman. Mὸrag needed time to assess and find her footing. It was a process that she always defiantly chose to take on alone. Brighid would return when she was ready to admit she needed guidance.

\---

The central market of Alba Cavanich was a bustle of noise, bartering, and arguments. The dichotomy of the crowd was always something to watch. The more high-end shops typically had the upper-class shouting for better prices, though they obviously could afford to spend the gold, and the eateries were full of young women who would glance in her direction only to turn away in disappointment. That always seemed to happen when Mὸrag didn’t accompany her. The Inquisitor had quite the fawning fan club... and it was not one Brighid tended to appreciate.

Normally, she would make a beeline for the cosmetics shop until the Inquisitor-hungry lady flock departed from the dessert stand. Today, though, she felt inclined to buy something for her Driver. Mὸrag didn’t care much for material possessions – an oddity for someone of royal blood – but Brighid knew that the gesture itself might put a smile on her face. There wasn’t much she could do to relieve the stress they were facing, but she could at least try to pamper the woman just a little.

Of course, pampering the Special Inquisitor meant heading straight for the shop selling combat accessories.

When the shopkeeper spotted her, he dropped the pair of metal gauntlets he had been carrying. “L-Lady Brighid!”

The Blade smiled. “Hello, Alastair. Do you have anything of interest in stock?”

The Ardainian cleared his throat, trying to calm the pounding of his heart at seeing the Jewel of Mor Ardain before him. She and Inquisitor Mὸrag frequented his shop, but their vision never ceased to intimidate him. To know that his crafts were aiding one of the strongest Driver-Blade pairs in Alrest… it was an honor which he was sure he would never grow accustomed.

“O-of course, ma’am. Will this be for Special Inquisitor Ladair?”

“Unless you’ve started selling core chips or aux cores?”

The shopkeeper flushed a bright red. “Right! Yes. Of course. The Inquisitor… she favors the use of your agility enhancement, correct?”

Ah, so the man could think clearly after all. “That’s right.”

“Then I have just the thing!” he disappeared to the back of the store for a moment before returning with a small box full of what looked like wrapping bandages. “I have specifically crafted these just for the Inquisitor. Your timing is impeccable, Lady Brighid. I only put the finishing touches on them yesterday!”

A blue hand reached forward and pulled one of the wraps from the box. The fabric looked familiar – it was similar to the binding Mὸrag used on her feet and legs to help soften the impact when her metal boots collided with the ground. The cushion added a bounce to her step and made her rather nimble for someone weighed down by heavy armor.

“These look like the last pair we purchased from you.” Her brow furrowed in suspicion.

“N-not at all, my lady! I know the Inquisitor likes this material, so yes, I crafted them from the same cloth, but the stitching and supplemental fabric could not be more different. I guarantee you, these will increase her agility even more! You can, of course, bring them back to me should the Inquisitor not find them to her liking.”

Brighid chuckled softly. “That won’t be necessary, Alastair. You know Lady Mὸrag is always quite fond of your work. I’ll pay triple whatever price you had in mind.”

His jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“Does the Special Inquisitor not do the same when shopping here for herself?”

“Y-yes, of course, and her generous patronage is always appreciated, but…”

Brighid placed her hand lightly over the shopkeeper’s, biting back a grin when looked close to fainting. “Make the exchange, Alastair, and let me be on my way.”

“O-of course!”

This man was terribly fun to tease.

\---

Brighid made her way through the Palace just as the sun began to set, holding the package for her Driver close against her chest. The guards stationed throughout the hallways nodded their heads in greeting and she smiled warmly at each of them. A final turn took her to the Royal suites, which were reserved for Emperor Niall, Lady Mὸrag and their respective Blades. Two guards stood on either side of the entryway and they promptly bowed as she approached.

“Good evening, lieutenants. Has Lady Mὸrag retired for the evening?”

One of the men nodded. “Yes, ma’am. She returned to her quarters just a short while ago.”

“Very good. Thank you.” She nodded her head cordially and carried on through the archway.

A smile spread across Brighid’s face the closer she got to Mὸrag’s room. Her Driver was right… it did feel like it had been too long since she had been home. The familiar red walls filled her with a sense of pride and glee, as did the package she was holding. If luck would have it, regardless of her mood, Mὸrag would grace her with a humbled smile as she accepted the gift and Brighid would feel as though she had played some small part in lifting the woman’s spirits. It seemed inconsequential, but they had been apart long enough that any chance to see the Ardainian smile was one she would eagerly take.

So eagerly that she didn’t think to knock.

She opened the door to Mὸrag’s room and quickly shut it behind her as she stumbled back in shock. Knocking. Knocking would have been wise… because her Driver had apparently been in the middle of dressing down for the evening. That meant her boots and greaves were off, hip armor and weapons put away, pants unbuttoned, coat missing, and her undershirt currently being pulled off over her head. All she could see was skin. Extremely toned, alabaster skin that she knew was silky smooth under her heated touch…

The package dropped to the floor.

Mὸrag jumped at the noise and quickly yanked the shirt away, throwing it to the floor as she turned to meet whoever had barged into her room. That was a mistake.

“Brighid?”

Mὸrag’s nearly naked front came fully into view. Her broad shoulders that tapered into the firm bulge of her defined biceps, the sensual slope of her breasts held tightly in the chest wrap she used when in uniform, and lower still Brighid’s gaze lingered until they landed on her toned stomach. Each muscle sculpted out of abdomen made her heart pound with a deafening thud… the flame Blade’s eyes opened instinctively to take it all in.

And then all Hell broke loose.

Ether rushed into her exposed irises and funneled to her Driver before Brighid could come to her senses. The energy ignited… and so did Mὸrag.

The Inquisitor shouted in shock and pain as the blue flames erupted over her skin. She had dealt with Brighid’s intense power before when she had convinced her to let them try fighting with her eyes exposed, but that had always been in uniform. After losing one too many sets of clothes, she had made sure her uniform was lined with a fire-retardant fabric. Her Ardainian skin had some resistance to heat, but nothing could withstand the blaze of Brighid’s full power. With no barrier between the flames and her skin, it wasn’t long before Mὸrag’s vision began to funnel. She thought she could hear Brighid cry out for her and feel the fire finally extinguish, but then everything went black.

She hit the floor with a resounding thud.

\---

The sound of hushed, angered voices filled her ears when her vision finally started to clear. It sounded like a child scolding someone… what? A soft grunt escaped her lips as she crawled her way back to consciousness. Almost immediately, she felt a weight and comforting warm in her left hand and a gentle touch on her right shoulder. Shaking her head slowly to clear the cobwebs, she finally made out the details of two faces hovering over her. Niall and Brighid. Was she in the infirmary?

“Mὸrag?” The young Emperor looked down on her with wide eyes. “Mὸrag? Can you hear me? Are you in any pain?”

Her throat was dry, but she managed a slight cough. “ ‘m fine.”

“Your Majesty, we should let her rest.”

Niall hesitated, his grip on her shoulder tightening just briefly before giving Brighid a curt nod. “I think it goes without saying that you’re relieved of your duties for the next day or two, dear sister.”

“M-Majesty…” Mὸrag shook her head. “I’m... alright.”

“No. You heard Brighid, you need to rest. That’s an order.”

The Inquisitor sighed. That battle ended quickly.

Niall gave her a smile before he made his way toward the door where Aegaeon stood patiently. He signaled with a glance for Brighid to follow him. Reluctantly, the flame Blade let go of her Driver’s hand and trailed behind. They stopped just outside the infirmary’s doorway.

“I take it you won’t let this happen again?” His tone was firm, though not overly harsh.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Brighid bowed her head.

“It’s been years since you’ve burned her, so I’m not sure I understand exactly what happened in this ‘training accident’ you had, but… please be gentle with her. She’s the only family I have.”

A burning hand gripped at her core crystal. “For me, as well. I will guard her with my life, sire.”

The Emperor smiled warmly at her and then continued his trek down the hall with Aegaeon a comfortable distance behind him.

When they were fully out of sight, Brighid sighed and walked back into the infirmary. The scene that played out before her shouldn’t have been so unexpected, but it still managed to make her blood boil. Mὸrag was sitting up, legs thrown over the side of the bed and she was fumbling with one hand to button up a shirt she had found left on Brighid’s chair in order to hide her bandaged abdomen. The muscles in her free arm flexed as she leaned all of her weight on it to propel herself off the bed. Brighid was there in an instant to catch her when she stumbled.

“Are you insane?” Her brows furrowed in frustration. “Did you not hear the Emperor? You’re meant to rest, Lady Mὸrag.”

The Inquisitor let out an exasperated sigh. “And I can do that with much greater comfort in my own bed.”

Brighid shook her head at the utter stubbornness of the woman in her arms. “Fine, but I’ll be staying with you to make sure you actually listen to those orders.”

The walk back to Mὸrag’s room was a bit of a struggle. The Inquisitor was relatively under dressed (though thankfully Brighid had thought to zip her pants and give her a shirt before calling for help), which made the Ardainian eager to hasten their pace to avoid any prolonged looks from the guards. Brighid found herself stumbling constantly as she attempted to keep up while holding an arm firmly around her Driver for support. Despite the jumbled mess of their appearance, they made it to the privacy of the royal quarters relatively unscathed.

Mὸrag sat gingerly on the bed and reached her hand out when Brighid made to back away. She pulled the fire Blade toward her, beckoning for her to sit beside her on the mattress. They sat in silence until eventually Mὸrag couldn’t stand it.

“Brighid?”

“Yes, Lady Mὸrag?”

“Might I ask what happened earlier?”

Heat rushed to the flame Blade’s cheeks and she bent her head down and looked away. “I-I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Really now? I seem to recall being in this very room earlier… alone… and then suddenly bursting into a pyre of blue flame. Surely that rings a bell?”

Brighid seemingly ignored her until the sound of fabric rustling caught her attention. “L-Lady Mὸrag! What are you doing?”

Pale fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, slowly bringing her bandaged torso into view. “How about now?”

A flush spread over the Blade’s cheeks as she averted her gaze once more. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re fine.”

Mὸrag shook her head in disbelieving amusement. “True. The healing Blades at the infirmary surely did a fine job – I doubt I’ll even have a scar. That’s hardly the point, though. Don’t you think I’m entitled to know why my own Blade set me on fire?”

Brighid remained defiant. “I used to do it quite often when I was training you.”

The Ardainian sighed. “That was years ago…”

“At any rate, you need to be resting, so I’ll just-“

A slender finger pressed against her lips and silenced her. “You’ve never lied to me, Brighid. I would hate for you to start doing so now.”

That was the end of it. There was absolutely no way Brighid could argue against that point… and Mὸrag knew that. Cheap shot. The Blade huffed in frustration and stood from the bed, not willing to watch her Driver bite back the smug smirk she knew would be begging to stretch across her lips. A box on the floor caught her attention and she moved over to pick it up. It was the gift she had dropped before everything had turned upside down.

“I did as you asked. I browsed the shops and I found something worth buying… for you.” Brighid kept her focus on the gift, not willing to turn and face Mὸrag. “Alastair made something new. I-I suppose I was a bit too eager coming back to show you.”

Mὸrag stood gingerly and slowly made her way over to her companion, an arm clutched protectively over her stomach. “You know you don’t have to knock.”

“I-I know… and I didn’t, which I suppose is how we got into this mess.” Brighid could feel her cheeks start to flush and turned even further away as she felt the woman draw near. “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”

“Undressed?” The Blade nodded and Mὸrag let out a soft chuckle. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Yes, but… well, we’ve been apart for quite some time and I-”

Gentle hand soothed over heated shoulders. “You’ve forgotten how to control yourself around me?”

Brighid sighed and leaned back against her Driver. “You are… quite a sight to behold Lady Mὸrag. I think you severely underestimate the power your abs wield.”

“I see.” The Ardainain smirked as she trailed her hands down over the exposed skin of her back. “Would these sculpted muscles of mine be an aversion tactic or are you thinking more along the lines of ‘abs of steel’ as both a defensive and offensive maneuver?”

Brighid couldn’t contain her laugh. “I would honestly prefer you refrain from using them in combat. I fear we’ll get nothing done if I’m so distracted…”

“Or too busy setting me ablaze.” She turned her Blade slowly to face her and took the package from her hands, setting it aside.

A glowing hand reached up and cupped her cheek. “Only you can make battle strategies sound so…”

“That is just one of my many talents.” Mὸrag leaned forward and trailed her lips softly against the side of Brighid’s face. “I’m afraid your… affection… for my body has rather poor consequences. It appears you’ll be deprived of the view for quite a while.”

The Blade smiled with mirth painted on her lips. “You’ll heal soon enough. I believe your skin has grown quite resistant to my heat.”

Mὸrag grinned and gently dragged her teeth across her ear, nipping at the soft skin. “I’m not sure I’m convinced. Your true power is formidable, Brighid. If the sight of my body forces your eyes open, I may not live long enough for you to enjoy it. Perhaps it’s best if I keep my uniform on.”

A burning palm smacked against the exposed skin of her chest. “Don’t even joke like that!”

Hands tightened against her waist as the Inquisitor pulled their bodies flush. “Well, can you ogle me without burning me alive?”

“I make no promises, Lady Mὸrag.”

A searing kiss was the only response she got.

She felt the moment the lock on the back of her neckpiece was undone and her body shivered against the nimble fingers that traced her skin. A part of her shouted for her to stop them, to let Mὸrag rest and recover. Cool sheets pressed against her back and created a delicious contrast to the heated lips still pressed against hers.

Damn.

She had never been good at resisting temptation. 


End file.
